


True Beginnings

by Lispet



Series: Unrelated Striders [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 13:31:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7510227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lispet/pseuds/Lispet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because when hasn't hitting on your local barista worked?</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> legit the shortest fic of my life but idgaf  
> also lol what are tags

Before we get too far into this, or into this at all, I have a confession. Because confessions are best done before things get complicated and people make assumptions. Then things get messy and people get mightily offended and stuff like that. But okay, here it is. 

I hate coffee. It tastes bad, it smells bad. It’s just bad. And that is also something that will mightily offend a lot of people, but I’ve never liked it, and it’s probably because my introduction to it was my brother, who mostly drinks instant coffee, or I think it’s instant. Either way it’s bitter and tastes burnt and adding milk and sugar does absolutely nothing for that. 

So there, you can all blame Bro and stop sharpening your pitchforks and preparing your torches and bonfire heaps, because I didn’t do anything. 

Nonetheless, that doesn’t stop me from being capable of going into coffee shops and ordering stuff, because it may shock people, but coffee shops sell other things than coffee. Blasphemous, I know. 

They also present the opportunity to act like a snobbish hipster shooting above his level in the game of ‘my caffeinated beverage is fancier than your caffeinated beverage’. Which is funny because my beverage isn't actually caffeinated. 

The coffee shop I choose isn't one I've been to before, another surprise because its on campus, wedged between the library and a lecture theatre. And I sincerely regret never having come here before because oh _boy_ the barista is _hot_. 

I walk up to the register and can't think of a dumb fancy ironic drink, so I order a skinny chai latte and give my name and pay and stand aside to wait. 

His name tag says that his name is Dirk, and that is a nice name. It sounds nice in my head at least. It suits him for sure. 

“Chai for Dave.” He calls, and I step up to take my drink. He smiles at me in what's probably a friendly and customary manner because he works in a café, and I don't know what comes over me. I think it's just the dizzying rush from seeing someone so attractive smile at me in what seems like a genuine manner. With his shades and hair I'd almost think that I've got some latent, unresolved issues pertaining to that general image (who am I kidding, I definitely do), but honestly, it's just because it doesn't hurt to try, right? 

Yeah. Right. 

“So I didn't have to get a number to get my drink, I feel kinda cheated,” I pause, and the words don't quite work in my head anymore and I chicken out. Suave. “Fuck, never mind. Sorry.” The tips of my ears go pink and I step back. “Thanks for the drink.” No, wait, does hurt to try. Abort, abort. 

“No, wait.” He stops me before I can get too far, and quickly slips out from behind the counter. “What were you saying?” 

“I was gonna ask for your number instead, but I really thought it through and figured you'd be over shitty pick up lines and also probably straight and dating someone.” Because no one that cute is single and interested in me, or at least they won’t be after the first few dates. 

“Uh, yeah hang on let me get a pen. Unless you want to stay? I can end my shift a bit early so we can chat or something.” 

“What? No dude I was kidding.” I’m backpedalling so hard I’m probably going to fall on my ass. This is an accurate summation of my life. 

“Are you sure? Because it’s chill. What’s your number?” He has his phone out, and I give only token protest before giving him my number, and he texts me so I have his, and I add him under ‘cute barista number 15’. Because it’s funny and makes me feel better about myself. 

We make a little more small talk and I don’t make myself look like an even bigger loser, so win for me, and it’s only interrupted when another customer comes in. 

He gives me a sheepish grin. “I better stop letting myself get distracted. I’ll text you, ‘cause I probably smell a bit and I should have a shower before we catch up,” great, now I’m imagining what he looks like under his clothes. Probably amazing, “but I’ll definitely text. If I don’t today, then you should.” 

“Yeah, no problemo.” 

He grins at me one last time before hurrying back to take the next customer’s order, and I wander back out into the weak sunshine. My drink is lukewarm, but really, does that matter? 

I got a hot guy’s number, not bad for a day’s work.

**Author's Note:**

> [Index here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7510270)
> 
> Ongoing series, requests welcome and encouraged, any character, any point in the timeline.


End file.
